


Westward

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [11]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an hour Thor and Loki will have left this place in the dust, hopefully forever.</p><p>Less than an hour, actually, if they can stop horsing around and get their shit together.</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Surrender and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Moving, finally!

Either he's lost track of time or the movers are early. Thor can hear them pounding on the door - someone else must have buzzed them into the building; awesome - as soon as he shuts the water off. He’s still gasping for breath, completely winded from fucking Loki hard up against the tile. For auld lang syne and all that.

The movers knock again, rattling the heavy door in its frame. _Shit._ If they give up and leave he and Loki are so, so screwed. And not in any remotely nice sense of the word, either.

"COMING," Thor bellows, grabbing his carelessly discarded t-shirt and jeans up off the floor. “BE RIGHT THERE!” He manages to pull his clothes on, not without some difficulty, over his tacky wet skin and then races for the entryway. "Sorry," he tells the three big guys standing in the hallway, as he rakes his dripping hair out of his face. "I thought I had time to sneak in a shower."

It isn't until one of the movers snickers that Thor looks back over his own shoulder and realizes Loki has followed him.

In nothing but a towel, slung loose and low _and barely decent_ around his hips.

Well, two towels, technically - his brother is lazily drying that messy black mop of hair with the second one.

"Jesus," Thor snaps. "Go put some clothes on. Sorry," he says again to the laughing movers. There isn't any point in trying to make excuses; that much is painfully obvious from the looks on their faces. "Where do you want to start?"

~

"Easy, easy," Loki admonishes as he and Thor struggle to jockey the flat screen TV, wrapped in packing blankets, in behind the car's front seats without breaking anything. It's going to be a long five hours of driving, what with so much shit crammed in around them. That, and it's not even 10:00 am and Thor is exhausted already.

Maybe it wasn't the world's brightest idea to stay up until all hours helping Sif load her u-Haul (she's hit the road already, having first stopped by and made the two of them promise not to kill one another at any point in transit) and then leap out of bed early just to make time to screw Loki senseless... but the first had been necessary, after all the crap they've put Sif through.

And, okay, the second had been kind of necessary too. Just because.

Thor has a lot of fond memories of that shower.

~

"Owww! Goddammit! Watch what you’re fucking doing! You do realize, genius,” Loki huffs, inspecting one hand closely, “that I need to maintain the use of all ten digits, don’t you?"

"Shut up or I'll crate you," Thor warns his scowling brother over the roof of the car.

"I hate you," Loki grumbles around the thumb he's nursing; the one he just jammed against the car doorframe.

"Well, I like the way you show it, then," Thor teases, circling around behind the vehicle. He gently extricates Loki's hand and takes the reddened, wet thumb into his own mouth.

Loki makes a rough little sound that's half sex and half pain and then they're kissing - hard, open-mouthed and greedy – right out in the driveway. Loki manages to end up jammed up against the car door with his hands on Thor's stubbly face and one leg up between Thor's thighs, rutting shamelessly against his brother. His hair is still damp and soft and curly.

He looks and tastes like an angel.

Thor could stay like this forever. Well, except for how they have to drive to _west buttfuck_.

He should probably care if the movers see them... except he can’t seem to. In an hour he and Loki will have left this place in the dust, hopefully forever.

Less than an hour, actually, if they can stop horsing around and get their shit together.

~

Before they head out to the highway, Thor and Loki take one last drive around.

They skip the slums where Loki almost died. Thor just can’t; Loki doesn’t mention it.

~

"You've done so well, honey," the day treatment counselor tells his brother, pulling Loki into an awkward hug. "We're all so proud. You keep up the good work, you hear? Both of you,” she tells Thor, beaming at him over his brother’s shoulder.

Thor smiles at her. "Yes, ma’am. And I'm proud of him too." Which he is. Odd as it may seem, this is a much nicer last stop than Casa Borson.

~

On the way out of town, they make a big show of waving goodbye to the city limits sign. They drive past the fishing wharf (Loki texts Sif a picture...) and the treatment facility (...and he doesn't).

As they cross the last ring of hills, and the whole of it vanishes in the side mirrors, Thor isn't sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

In the end he does neither. He's done with it, all of it, for once and for all.

~

The drive is long. Thor is even more exhausted than he was in the morning, if that's possible; Loki is edgy.

Eventually Loki offers to drive, when Thor can't stop yawning. It's just not an option... while his brother knows _how_ to operate a car, of course, the last thing Thor wants to see happen on this trip is _another arrest._ That, and he's not at all sure how - given the cocktail of crap Loki needs to stay sane(ish) - a mandatory drug screen might go.

It’s a risk he’s not willing to take.

In the end they pull over at a rest stop, ostensibly so they can both nap. Loki is too restless, though, and he keeps Thor awake.

Unsurprisingly, the whole thing ends up with Loki blowing Thor right in the driver's seat, where pretty much anyone can see, with people walking by and everything. _Hopefully someone who looks over here will be distracted by how much shit is crammed in_ \- “ohhhhhhh” - _such a small space,_ he thinks, when he manages to think at all, _and not notice my_ \- “nnn” – _stupid-ass face or the crown of black hair bobbing in my lap._

He can hope, after all.

And except for the grinning guy who – much to Thor’s horror - gives an enthusiastic two thumbs up, most people do seem surprisingly oblivious.

Until now Thor has always (successfully) fought not to take advantage of Loki's _unique skillset_ when they’re doing this. The very idea of letting, let alone making, his brother deep-throat him feels wrong - worse than wrong, really, in every way save sheer physical _need_ and on top of that it reminds him of Loki's past in ways that are decidedly un-titillating - but just this once it seems to be pretty much the only way to keep his brother mostly still and relatively inconspicuous.

He doesn't have to thrust much, even. Just the hot, crushing pressure of Loki's esophagus spasming, in the dangerously-long-feeling stretches where Thor holds his brother tight against his own pelvis by the hair and doesn't afford Loki any opportunity to pull off to gag or breathe, is enough to bring him off embarrassingly - disgustingly, when you get right down it - quickly.

"Fuck. Sorry," Thor wheezes, more than a little revolted about himself, as Loki sits up and flops limp against his own seat back with mouth hanging open and chest heaving. “I mean it.”

At that his brother grins, wiping spit and semen and god knows what else off his face. "Don't be," Loki rasps. He laughs, but it sounds more like choking.

"Seriously, Thor. Clean yourself up," he orders when he can mostly talk again, throwing Thor a handful of cheap fast-food paper napkins out of one of the cup holders. "You wouldn't want to have someone's poor, innocent little kid peek in and see your slimy old junk now, would you?"

"You're one sick fucking pig, you know that?" Thor takes the proffered napkins and wipes up fast, tucking the evidence away.

Loki laughs again, then coughs. "You didn't seem to mind my _baser instincts_ when your dick was halfway down my throat, brother."

He did mind it, actually, except for the part where his body overruled his brain. Thor keeps that to himself, though; his brother seems cheerful enough and there's no point in spoiling Loki’s fun. He'll just have to live with his own hang-ups.

Ultimately they do both get a nap in. With a little sleep under his belt, and enough caffeine to leave his hands shaking, Thor feels almost safe getting back out on the highway. Almost.

He sneaks a quick look at his brother.

Loki is out cold in the passenger seat, hair clinging to his face in sticky tendrils. One side of his upper lip is red and a little puffy, like it's going to bruise. Looking at it hurts, in a whole lot of ugly ways Thor thought he was past. Was over.

He sighs. He's going to have to call his therapist tomorrow morning, if he still feels this shitty about- about _things._ And won't _that_ just be one fucking awkward conversation.

With one last long glance at his brother, Thor starts the car. And then he reaches across and latches Loki's seatbelt.

Still fast asleep, Loki shifts a little and smiles.

~

About 7:00pm Thor's phone rings. He glances over at the display; it's Sif. _Shit_. They should have been there a couple of hours ago.

"Hi, kids," she says, and even on the hands-free he can hear the weariness in her voice. "Did you get lost?"

Loki yawns and stretches. "We napped," he tells the receiver, voice barely more than a scratchy whisper.

" _Napped,_ " Sif echoes, snickering. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"We're just pulling into town," Thor says, ignoring her jab in favor of checking the GPS. "Fifteen minutes, tops. Hey," he squawks as his brother unexpectedly gets a little handsy, "enough already." Sometimes he almost wonders if Loki really loves him, or if Loki just loves sex and Thor's the most convenient.

Okay, sometimes he _actually_ wonders that.

"Knock it off, you two," Sif admonishes, dragging Thor's tired mind back to the here and now. "I've gotten all the boxes and small stuff, but I need your manly brawn for a few pieces of furniture. And if I don't get the truck back by 10:00 pm those assholes will charge me for a whole extra day."

~

Sif looks pointedly at Loki's bruised lip, and then at Thor... who can feel himself flushing bright red. She studies him carefully for a moment, then laughs. "So I don't need to worry about how this might have happened, eh?"

"Let's get your stuff inside," Thor suggests, desperate to change the subject. " _Running out of time,_ remember?"

"Ignore my brother," Loki rasps. "Some of his _kinks_ embarrass him," he adds, completely unnecessarily; he just barely manages to hop out of range of the dishrag Thor snaps towards his backside.

~

When they finally have everything inside - including their own valuables, because who really knows what these streets are like at night? - Thor and Loki follow Sif to the u-Haul drop-off. Afterwards they stop to pick up take-out pierogies and onions at a cute little Polish kitchen oh-so-conveniently located on the way _home_.

Thor still thinks he’s going to like it here.

~

Even at night, visible only in the glow of the period-style streetlights, their new building is gorgeous. It’s an impressive Art Deco place; a big step up for Sif, thanks to the new job and the lower cost of living (and to some money Loki thinks he slipped her on the sly, but which Thor completely caught his brother sharing… it's totally fine, more than fine, but he supposes they should talk about the _lying_ part of it sometime soon).

_Now, though, is not that sometime,_ he thinks as the three of them slump up against Sif's boxes - two of them, that is; Loki is reclining between Thor's aching thighs, warm and cuddly and sleepy-acting - by turns shoveling in big forkfuls of wonderful cheesy, oniony, buttery goodness.

_Now_ they are going to make short work of a delicious meal, hug Sif goodnight, and stagger next door to collapse – disgustingly filthy - on the old air mattress Thor bought for random guests way back in college.

The air mattress that needs re-inflating around 2:00am, usually. Tonight he's not quite convinced they'll wake up enough to notice.

And before they turn in, maybe they'll even dig out some sheets.

_Probably not,_ he thinks, yawning, as he turns to kiss Loki's sweat-salty temple fondly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor does lots of uncomfortable sharing.

"This is really embarrassing," Thor points out, unnecessarily, and then stalls. He'd thought it would be weird, going back to phone sessions after so much face-to-face time. Maybe it eventually will be.

But for this? For this, it’s almost better.

"I know you're uncomfortable talking about sex," the therapist tells him, "but rest assured you won't shock me. So go ahead, whenever you're comfortable."

Well, if he waits for _that_ to happen, they'll never get around to talking about it.

Eventually, though, sitting here holding his phone and saying nothing starts to feel nearly as awkward as telling his therapist about what happened would be. He gives it another try. "Um. While we were driving out here Loki- I did something to Loki. Something I'm- I'm not comfortable doing."

" _While_ you were driving," the social worker repeats back to him. Thor knows he's probably inventing just about all of the judgment he's hearing in those four short words, but he hurries to correct any mistaken impression anyway.

"No no no, not _while_ I was driving. We were at a rest area. We stopped because I was falling asleep at the wheel. We were- um- going to nap. We _did_ nap. Eventually." God, gay rest stop sex. Such a cliché. _When did I become so normally abnormal,_ Thor wonders. It’s awfully fucking embarrassing.

"So, you felt uncomfortable," the therapist prompts.

Ugh. Shit. There's pretty much nothing left in terms of ways to avoid explaining. "Yeah. Loki- er- Loki couldn't sleep. I guess he was too wound-up," Thor offers. "You know how he gets," he adds, even though the man really doesn't. "So he- he went down on me. In the car, amidst all our crap. Right out in the parking area where people could, um, see and everything." He pauses to breathe; he’s apparently not been, and he’s winded. “In fact, one guy did. I seriously wanted to die.”

He hopes against hope his therapist will think that's the whole story, and they can just talk about the exhibitionism part of it. Which, truthfully, _is_ a piece of the problem.

Yeah, no such luck: "Keep going," the social worker tells him. "If you’d like, we can come back to that part once I have the whole picture."

Sif or Loki would laugh and jokingly call the therapist a perv. Thor... just can't.

"He - jesus, I can't believe I'm talking about this - Loki knows how to- he can take it all the way down, you know?" Thor's face is fucking _burning_. "I don't usually- I've actually never let him, although he’s tried.” It’s true; sometimes his brother does, and Thor’s always stopped him. “It- I feel wrong doing it. But this time... people could _see_ us." He actually _is_ going to die talking about this; he just _knows_ it. "It seemed smartest to keep him still."

"So you let him do what he wanted," the therapist confirms, tone completely neutral.

"Worse than that," Thor corrects, mentally kicking himself for the choice of words because he _knows_ they'll be coming back to that as well. "I... I got kind of rough with him. I forced him down and held him there, more than once. I gave him a fat lip."

"And how did he react to that? Was he unhappy with you, at the time or later?"

"No, really, it seemed like he loved it," Thor says, wanting to laugh and cry all at once again. "But he loves sticking a knife in his own fucking arm, so I'm not sure I really trust his judgment."

Well. That's a lot more than he'd intended to spill. Awesome.

"Thank you," the therapist says, "for helping me understand the situation. I know that must have been very difficult for you."

 _Oh, you have no idea,_ Thor wants very much to retort, but it's probably not even true so he keeps his mouth shut.

"Now, I’m going to ask you a question about what you just described,” the therapist explains, “and I want you to give me the very first answer that comes to mind: What's the single thing that bothered you most about it?"

Thor hates this particular _game_ , just hates it. "I felt like I'd paid a hooker," he blurts out. “Like I’d imagine I would, I mean,” he hurriedly clarifies. “Not like I _have_ or anything…”

“And what does that say about you,” the therapist asks.

Huh? “That I’m a bad person. I treated him like… like a thing, and-.” He can’t. He just can’t. He simply can’t say what he’s thinking.

“What were you going to say?”

 _Fuck._ “And I got off on it,” Thor finishes in a small, disgusted voice.

“You enjoyed it, or you ejaculated?”

 _Oh, for god’s sake!_ “Yes. Both. _Now_ are you happy?” He can practically _taste_ his anger as it rises in his chest.

The therapist continues on, bland and unoffended. “Did you hurt Loki, Thor?”

He has to think about that a little, which kind of derails him. “Well, he’s still kind of hoarse this morning and he has a bruised lip. But that’s about it, I guess.” It’s not _what_ he did, really; it’s the principle of the thing. Or something. This is all very complicated, somehow. More than sex should be, definitely.

“And do you think, if you asked him – which I think you by all means should, by the way – Loki would call that a fair trade-off?”

“Yes.” Of that’s he’s absolutely certain. _Then what’s the problem,_ he anticipates. Just that quickly he can once again feel himself getting more and more defensive, and nothing’s even been said yet. Maybe he can have an actual fight with the social worker, and the man can see first-hand what his brother is up against.

“Let’s put this in a slightly different perspective,” the therapist suggests instead of responding. Reacting. It isn’t remotely what Thor expected, not at all; it throws him completely off course. It’s disorienting. He shakes his head violently, thankful the social worker can’t see him.

“Have you and Loki ever – back when you were children, say – played sports together? I don’t necessarily mean organized team sports; even just playing tag, or capture the flag… or not playing anything and simply tossing a ball around. Think about it for a minute,” his therapist tells him, “and let me know what, if anything, comes to mind.”

When Thor was just getting into football and Loki was still too small to do much of anything, yes, they did throw the ball around. Or, rather, he threw it and Loki skidded after it, missing the catch every time, coming up grass-stained and skinned raw. He nods, forgetting for a moment that his therapist can’t _see_ what he’s doing anymore. “Yes,” he says instead.

“Can you tell me a little bit about it,” the therapist asks.

This is a lot easier than talking about blowjobs. “Sure. I’ve probably mentioned I played football. Because my dad did, you know, and everyone expected me to be just like him,” which could be part of the problem here, considering Odin grabs every ass within reach, but Thor’s not going to mention _that_ just now. Ever, maybe. “So, when I was still in early grade school and just getting started, Loki wanted to do it too. I don’t think he particularly liked football,” he continues, laughing at the memory of kid Loki barely able to hold the awkwardly-shaped ball with his little hands, “but he always wanted to do what I was doing. He was just a preschooler; he was awful at it.”

“Did he ever get banged up some playing football? Or what passed for football,” the therapist corrects himself, chuckling.

“Oh, yes,” Thor says. “He was constantly sliding for the ball and missing. Half the time he came up green and bleeding. But he never cried; he just stood there pouting until I threw it again, over and over.” He laughs, too. “I’m not sure he ever once caught it.”

“And did you feel guilty treating him that way? As an adult, even? When you think back to those days, do you feel as though treating him that way was wrong? First thought, please,” the therapist instructs before Thor can open his mouth to answer.

“No, why would I?” He didn’t. Doesn’t. “He wanted it - begged for it, even - and getting a little banged up is just part of playing football.”

“And what if I told you,” the therapist says, “Loki thinks _getting a little banged up_ is just part of having sex?”

“But that’s weird,” Thor blurts out without thinking.

“Well, yes, that’s your personal opinion,” the therapist confirms. “But is it possible Loki might look at it differently?”

Loki looks at most everything differently, Thor thinks. Often. “Yes, probably,” he concedes a bit reluctantly.

“I’m going to give you some homework,” the social worker says. From the man’s voice, he’s smiling. “Talk to your brother about it, even just briefly, and see how you feel about his responses. You and I can discuss your reaction next time.”

~

When he hangs up the phone and comes out of _the study,_ which is basically just an empty room presently, it’s to find Loki lounging nearly naked – in a nest of blankets he must have stowed away in the car somewhere – out on the balcony.

Having a balcony is going to be nice. Especially if he can convince Loki to wear actual clothes while out there.

Thor opens the sliding glass door a few inches and pokes his head outside. “May I?” He wants to get this over with before he loses whatever’s passing for nerve just now.

“Of course,” Loki tells him, covering a yawn with one hand. “Be my guest.”

“I talked to my shrink about, um, sex again,” Thor says, leaning faux-casually against the apartment wall. His brother snickers, which is a whole lot better than last time. “He gave me some homework.”

“Oh, _really_ ,” Loki says, rolling flat onto his back and stretching. “Do tell.” The blankets slide off to the side and Thor realizes his brother isn’t just _nearly_ naked.

“Loki,” he hisses. “We’re not exactly in the _middle of nowhere_ here, despite what you keep insisting!” He squats down and tugs the blanket back over his brother’s exposed- _everything_. “You’re terrible.”

His brother grins, sharp and dirty. “I like it here,” he says, conversationally. “There’s a lot to see. So, really, what’s your homework,” he asks, popping up on his elbows, expression suddenly politely attentive. Serious.

Ugh. “Yesterday. In- in the car. Was I too rough with you?”

“No, not at all.” Loki frowns up at him. “I like things like that, you know. I like being used now and again.”

 _Used._ Thor can feel his face heating. “But _why?_ ” It makes no sense to him, no sense at all, and he just cannot fathom why his proud brother would-.

“I don’t know,” Loki offers, shrugging as much as this position allows. “Why do you like peanut butter? Seriously,” he adds, still frowning, as Thor can’t help but snort. “It’s about as weird a question.”

He’s not sure what to make of that. “Can I think about this some more?” If he can end the conversation now, he may just survive it.

Loki smirks. “Sure, but be careful. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. Hey, do you have plans,” he asks, as Thor pokes him in the side. “Ouch! For the rest of the morning?”

“No,” Thor says slowly and a little nervously. Given what they’ve just been discussing, he’s not sure he’s going to like wherever this ends up being headed.

“Good,” his brother says, smiling – sweetly, this time, and maybe it’s not something awful after all. “It looks like there’s a pretty park about five blocks from here.” Loki shows Thor his phone, all ducks and lilies and trees. “With ponds and everything. Care to do a little sightseeing?”

It’s a nice idea, actually, and he’s quick to say so. “But put some clothes on? Please,” he begs, extending a hand to help Loki up.

Loki laughs, standing and letting the blankets droop dangerously. “For you? Maybe just this once.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honesty is scary.

"So, what are you thinking," Thor asks as the silence between them stretches from _companionable_ into _suffocating_.

"Don't ask me things you don't want to know," Loki warns him. The edge in his brother’s voice is a little frightening, really.

Thor's heart skips a beat or two, but he refuses to be defeated. "I _do_ want to know," he protests, planting a loud kiss on top of Loki's head. “Please tell me.”

They're sitting together, relaxing, under the dense canopy of a gigantic maple. He’s not sure what kind it is, exactly. _Mom would know,_ he catches himself thinking for easily the thousandth time since her death (he probably should have paid her more mind when she was still alive, but how was he to know?). His own back rests solidly against the thick trunk; Loki's spine is pressed against his chest. He has one hand on Loki's stomach, up under his brother's t-shirt with his fingers resting lightly against smooth skin, but by and large it’s more _connected_ than _sexual_.

Right now, anyway.

The two of them are idling out, flopped here watching the ducks taking off and landing and taking off and landing, over and over. It’s like a busy duck airport. In front of them the water sparkles, dappled with shade close by but all sun and flashing wavelets in the middle distance. It's pretty and sweet and Thor’s stupidly anxious.

Loki inhales deeply, belly shifting under Thor's big palm, then lets out an over-loud sigh. "No, you don't. Knowing that, if I tell you anyway, do you promise not to spaz out on me?"

Like they’ve ever truly believed one another’s’ promises. "I'll do my best not to, baby.” Thor will, too; he’s been _learning_. “Is that good enough?" He really, really wants it to be.

"I was wondering what it would feel like to just slip beneath the water – out here, in this pond, over there by the lily pads -," Loki says, pointing about thirty yards away by Thor's reckoning, "and drown. Whether it would hurt. Too much, I mean." He shrugs, thin shoulders rubbing across Thor's chest.

 _Why the fuck would you think about something like that,_ Thor doesn't say, although he can't quite stop himself from wrapping both arms protectively around his brother. He makes himself count to ten. Twice. "I hope you don't do it. I hope you don’t drown yourself, I mean," he clarifies, voice a little rough on that last bit. He can feel a tear starting down his right cheek.

He ignores it.

"I don't think I will," Loki says after an uncomfortably long silence. "I- I just think things like that, you know?" He shifts a little in Thor's embrace, but it's to nestle in closer rather than to wriggle away.

"Thank you for" _trusting me enough to feel safe-ish_ "telling me," _I guess,_ Thor says to his brother after another awkward quiet spell.

Loki shrugs again. "And thank you for not blowing up," he says in return. "Kiss me?"

Thor shifts to meet his brother's offered lips. All talk aside, Loki is warm and pliant and _alive_ under his mouth, his hands. _You can get through this,_ he reminds himself as Loki's lips part eagerly. _You can both get through it_.

Can and will, can and will.

~

For a bit Thor blocks the whole conversation (and the ducks, and the pond, and their mother) out completely; there's nothing in the world but hungry, sloppy kissing, one hand down the front of his brother's pants and Loki's fingernails digging painfully into the other forearm. Eventually, though, he just can't keep it all entirely at bay. "Does it hurt to- to think that way," he asks against Loki's mouth, panting a little, letting his lips slide messily against his brother's wet skin. _Because it sure seems like it would,_ he carefully doesn’t add.

"I guess I'm used to it," Loki says, pulling back just enough to watch Thor's face. "The inside of my head is not a nice place." They stare each other down, too close not to have to switch awkwardly from one eye to the other, over and over. Like the ducks. Eventually Loki giggles.

It is pretty ridiculous, looking at each other this way, but Thor isn't able to laugh quite yet. "I don't think I could do- do that," he says quietly. “I don’t think I could just walk out there and drown.”

Loki stops smiling, the soft, kissable place between his brows wrinkling. "I could," he says, matter of fact and solemn. "But I don't think I will,” he adds, leaning in to lick the tip of Thor’s nose, “because I would miss you."

That's too much; Thor starts to cry for real. _I'm so sorry,_ he wants to say, but he knows that’s one thing he says far too often already. "I would miss you, too. _God,_ Loki," he says into his brother's hair as a couple of sobs get the best of him.

"Ducks aren't supposed to make you cry," Loki points out, nuzzling Thor’s jaw.

 _The person I love more than anything isn't supposed to want to fucking die,_ Thor counters in the privacy of his own thoughts. All he says, though, is "I love you."

It takes a little while, but Loki does finally deliver a reasonably sincere sounding "I love you, too," in return.

~

It’s way too fucking early when the car service calls to say their driver is enroute. Thor has a couple of weeks yet until his new job starts, but Loki isn’t so lucky; now that the weekend’s over, it’s right back to day treatment.

His brother is bouncy and agitated. There isn’t really time for a quickie, even, but Thor pulls Loki off anyway – fast and businesslike – because that’s what friends do. Or something. He’ll have plenty of time to take care of himself later.

“Be good,” he tells his brother as the car pulls up outside.

“I’m always good,” Loki shoots back, smirking, just as the door closes.

~

“Your place is actually starting to look like something,” Thor tells Sif from the doorway. It is, too; she has furniture and books and _stuff_. A nice rug, even. He and Loki are still awaiting the moving truck – which isn’t even expected until Thursday at the earliest; Friday, more likely – so their place is still pretty much _furnished_ with blankets and the big TV. Oh, and their computer… and Loki’s box of toys.

It’s hard to tie someone to a leaky air mattress, but this kitchen? Well, it has a really fucking solid pot rack over the island.

“I heard some yelling last night,” Sif says, ignoring Thor’s compliment. “Everything okay? Ohhhhh, never mind, don’t tell me,” she adds, laughing, as he can feel himself coloring. “Just promise me you’ll let me know if there’s a problem.”

Making a commitment to her is easier – less dangerous – somehow. “Of course,” he assures her. “I promise. But we’re good so far.”

She smiles. “Have you been down to the park? There are-.”

“-ducks,” he says. “I know. And yes. We walked over there yesterday. Loki likes ducks,” _and thinking about killing himself in ponds,_ he doesn’t add. Not because she wouldn’t understand, but because he doesn’t. “Hey, when you’re done here, do you want to go grab some lunch?”

She ducks her head, looking a little embarrassed herself this time. “I would, but I- I met a guy this morning at the coffee shop. I told him I’d meet him for lunch today.” She laughs. “It would be little weird to show up with my gay ex in tow, don’t you think?”

He laughs too, even though this _hurts_ a little. Not because he wants her back – he doesn’t; he’s barely got enough capacity to handle _just Loki_ most of the time, and adding anything on top of that would absolutely fucking kill him – but because he… he hasn’t ever really pictured her having a life beyond the two of them. Which is undoubtedly despicable somehow. “Yeah,” he agrees instead of sharing any of that. “Probably. Especially when we started explaining I’m pretty much married to my brother.”

She looks at him, no longer smiling. “Anyone who wants to date me is going to have to deal with that, you know? You guys are my family.”

“Aww, thanks, sis,” he teases. But inside? He really, really means it.

~

“I’m sorry to keep bothering you,” Thor tells his therapist mid-afternoon. “I feel like such a baby.”

“Not at all,” the social worker says. “Change is hard, even when you’re looking forward to it. How’s Loki doing,” he asks over Thor’s _mm-hm_. “Is everything okay there?”

Thor swallows. “He said- he talked about suicide, kind of, with me. Yesterday.” Suddenly he’s not sure what to say. “I mean, in the abstract. Not like he is going to. Was going to. You know. But I did okay.” He stops, feeling stupid.

“Go on,” his therapist prompts.

“I didn’t freak out. I didn’t yell. I don’t understand it, though.”

“Good for you. I really am pleased with your progress. And Thor,” the therapist adds, “it’s okay not to understand.” He laughs, gently. “You probably puzzle Loki sometimes, when it comes right down to it.”

Thor laughs with him, and it feels _good_. “Oh,” he says with complete and utter certainty, “I’m sure I do.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you're Loki, no good deed goes unpunished.

"No, wait," Sif insists, stopping him two steps from the door with both hands flat against his chest. "You're not going in there until I've filled you in."

She's strong for her size, but he could force his way past her if he wanted to.

If he did, though, Thor expects she could - and would - find other ways to make him regret it. She’s good that way. Instead of taking his chances he opts, reluctantly, to stop as requested. “Go ahead,” he says, breathing hard. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

~

They’re all settling in.

He’s been back at work for a couple of weeks now. Believe it or not, things have been going reasonably well overall.

The new job is really different, and he feels pretty fucking stupid most of the time, but his colleagues seem to like him and everyone keeps assuring him he’s settling in fine. His new boss is nothing like Odin. Which is a good thing.

Loki has been pretty keyed up – adjusting to a new day treatment program is apparently just as difficult as is taking on a new job, and being more active in general has messed a little with his meds – but there hasn’t been any more talk (or worse) of dying.

There hasn’t even been any cutting; just a little screaming, and Loki slapped Thor across the face once.

That time, instead of responding in kind, Thor caught Loki’s wrist carefully and kissed his brother’s palm. Which led to a little more screaming, sure, but the end of the evening found them in bed – together – instead of in the hospital: definitely a win.

One night this week the two of them even cooked dinner, now that their stuff has finally made its slow way here, and invited Sif’s potential new guy over. As far as Thor’s concerned he passed inspection – interesting, polite, friendly, not acting at all like he wished he was climbing Loki’s pole but also not minding that… well… let’s just say Loki left very little concerning his relationship with Thor up for interpretation.

Yes, things _have_ been going pretty well.

Right up until this- this whatever it is. And whatever it, he wants to know. _Jesus, Sif, get on with it already,_ he thinks as loudly as his inside voice can manage.

~

"Look," she says, making _that face,_ the one he long since learned not to challenge. "I know you just want to help, _right this exact instant_ , but I can't have you freaking out in there. So hear me out, okay?" She still has her hands up, like she's ready to fight him for it, and that's sad.

"Okay, got it," he tells her, backing up a couple of steps with his own hands up in surrender. "Speak your piece." His heart is hammering away in his chest. "Please," he adds, trying to smooth things over a little. To make up for coming bounding in like a rabbit on crack. “I won’t push. I’m just- you scared me.”

Sif takes a deep breath. "Okay. Well." She looks a little uncertain, like she can't believe he's standing down with so little persuasion. "I know any time Loki gets hurt” - _What?? Nonononono!_ , he thinks starting to panic for real - “you read into it. No, no, hear me out," she stops him again as he starts to talk over her. "And I do understand that. He's certainly given you ample cause over time."

Thor nods, more than a bit frantic. He needs her to _hurry up and finish talking_ ; he just wants to see his brother.

"But this time," she assures him, "I was there. I saw what happened. He just tripped on the cellar stairs, Thor."

He clenches his teeth, hard. "Is he okay?"

She makes a wry face. "He's in a lot of pain. I'm pretty certain he's broken something in his wrist, but he doesn't want to go to the hospital." She holds up her hand yet again. "Shh! This is where you come in... but I need you to be calm and reasonable."

He clenches down again. Playing at _calm and reasonable,_ even just out here in the hall, is making his face hurt. "Anything you need," he tells her, hoping like crazy he can deliver.

"He needs to go for x-rays," she insists. "And then get it set or casted or whatever."

Thor's missing something. Loki has never been one to shy away from pain, sure, but he doesn't normally fight medical care either. "If he _just plain old fell,_ what's the problem?" Of all the weird shit Loki's done over the years, falling down the stairs isn't even in the top 50.

"He's afraid they will medicate him," Sif explains, "and he remembers what happened- what happened _last time._."

_Ohhh._

"After I broke his jaw," he says tiredly. Resigned. "It's okay; you can say it. I know what I did."

She nods. "Anyway, he's- well, I guess he's terrified that this is going to set him back horribly. And more than that," she continues, and there go the hands up again, "he's afraid you will... I'm not sure, really. Not believe him? Be angry? Be disappointed? Take your pick, I guess," she offers, shrugging.

"But I would never- I wouldn't- why?" He's really upset now, differently upset. "Why- why would he think-," he stammers. Like he doesn't know why.

"You've had your share of misunderstandings in the past," Sif tells him. It's a fairer assessment than Thor thinks he deserves.

~

"Hi, baby," he offers cautiously. Loki is curled up on the couch, one wrist cradled carefully in the other hand, eyes huge and very pale face sweaty. "I hear you took a nasty fall." _Calm. Neutral. They can do this._

It's just a broken arm. Normal people deal with broken arms.

"I'm an idiot," Loki blurts out. He's crying, tears streaking his face, and shaking so hard his teeth are chattering. He doesn't even seem to realize it.

"Everyone falls," Thor says. "It happens." He's not sure what to do or say. "Let's go get that looked at, shall we?"

"Don't you fucking start now," Loki grumbles, but he sounds more tired than angry. More afraid, too. “Sif already has the nagging covered.”

Thor ignores the little outburst. "I'll drive. Sif will come with us, right Sif?" He already knows the answer - they talked about this out in the hallway - but he wants Loki to feel included.

~

It doesn't work out quite the way he intended - Sif drives, in his car, while he cuddles a shaking, dry-heaving Loki in the back seat - but they get to the emergency department and that's what really matters.

~

"NO," Loki is telling the doctor adamantly when Thor - fresh from the registration desk, as Sif is still parking - finds his brother's cubicle. "I'm a recovering opiate addict. You're not giving me anything the least bit narcotic." He snuffles loudly. "Look: I don't mean to be as asshole but, if you won't listen to me, I'm leaving."

Thor has seldom been so proud of his stubborn baby brother. He pokes his head in through the split in the curtains. "Hi. I'm Thor. Odinson. I heard raised voices," he says, all wide-eyed false stupidity. "Is there a problem?"

The doctor - a resident, probably; she's very young and looks as tired as Thor feels - turns to face him. "Come in. Please."

He does. He even shakes her hand while Loki glowers quietly. "Now tell me; what seems to be the problem."

"Your-...," she looks at them both, face a little puzzled. He doesn't help out. "Um. Mr. Odinson here is in a lot of pain, and we need to get a look at his arm."

"No. Narcotics.," Loki snaps. "It's okay. Thor knows my history. We live together," he tells the young doctor as she tries to quiet him. "It's not negotiable," he goes on, chin high. "If you have to give me something, it _will_ be non-narcotic and you _will_ show us the prescribing information. Beforehand," he clarifies.

The doctor sighs. "But Mr. Odinson," she says, not nearly patiently enough, "we have narcotic options that are very low-risk.” It’s painfully clear she’s getting frustrated.

Been there, done that. Got the t-shirt.

"Yes, I know. I've been given things like that before, actually," Loki argues. There's a shrillness to his voice that says trouble's coming, so Thor doesn't risk trying to shush him.

Instead he simply says "Loki reacted badly to those drugs last time. Please, just do this his way. He really does know himself best," he says, purposefully smiling a bit sheepishly. Good cop, bad cop.

The doctor isn't quite ready to concede just yet. "What sort of reaction," she asks.

"I tried to kill myself," Loki says. His teeth are chattering again; Thor isn't going to let this go on much longer. "Look," Loki continues, only fractionally less nastily, "I have invested way too much in getting better. I'm not going back to hell over a broken fucking wrist, pardon my language." He wipes his face on the shoulder of the gown. "Bottom line: An anesthetic-only block is okay, if you have to, as are non-narcotic analgesics. That's it. Absolutely _it_." He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, looking completely drained. "Do I make myself clear?"

~

Just after that, before the doctor even has time to launch another campaign, Sif shows up and _Things Start Happening._ Whether it's her, Loki, or a combination, Thor doesn't care. His brother rocks, pure and simple.

~

A good solid four hours later Loki – arm limp and numb from the elbow down following a procedure that nearly made Thor gag, wrist neatly encased to mid-forearm in a shockingly green fiberglass cast – lolls sleepily against Thor in the back seat of the car. “Feeling a little better, baby,” Thor asks as Sif pulls out into what passes for traffic this late in the evening.

“Mm,” Loki says, breath warm against Thor’s neck. He rouses himself a little. “I bet it hurts like fuck tomorrow, though.”

Thor turns to kiss his brother’s cheek. “Yeah, that’s pretty much a given. You never did tell me,” he says carefully. “What were you and SIf doing? When you took a header, I mean.”

Loki snorts. “Laundry. I was trying to be _useful_ for once. Yeah, that worked out well,” he adds, dripping sarcasm.

_Oh, princess._ Thor throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders and gives a very gentle squeeze. “You were awesome back there. Really. I’ll take that over _useful_ any time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's no fun being incapacitated. And stubborn.

"I don't want you here all by yourself today," Thor tells his brother for at least the tenth time. Loki is curled up in bed trying to put a good face on things, but everything about him looks tense and strained. "You're going to be really hurting when that block wears completely off. Not to mention," he adds, once he thinks about it a minute, "you won't even be able to... well, anything. Wipe your ass. Get your meds."

It's totally the wrong approach. He can see that before he's even done speaking.

Loki dons his very best haughty-stubborn expression. "You just don't trust me, do you," he snarls. "If you can't send me off to the babysitter, you think I'll do something stupid. Don’t pretend otherwise, brother. The least you could do is fucking admit it."

The whole business would probably be a whole lot more convincing if it weren’t for how It only takes that short little rant to leave Loki gasping.

“I _do_ trust you," Thor protests, mostly meaning it. "I just can't leave you here helpless... helpless and in pain."

"I'm fine," Loki snaps, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and using his left hand to lever himself up. He pushes angrily past Thor and stomps off towards the bathroom. "Go to work!"

Even with his left hand, Loki sure can slam a door.

~

Thor does his best to concentrate all morning, but it's pretty close to impossible; the contract he's reviewing is slow going, beyond tedious, and Loki isn't answering texts. Thor tries to talk himself down - _Loki can't balance his phone and text one-handed, he's asleep, he's pissed and making you sweat_ \- but it doesn't work, really.

~

There’s nothing to be done for it, though. Thor takes a walk at lunch, which helps a little. It's just one workday. Nine stupid hours. Loki lived alone for months, injured, high out of his mind half the time and in withdrawal the rest of it, and no one died.

It’s just one little day.

~

The afternoon, by contrast, flies by. Thor has three meetings - in one of which he actually feels like he _contributes,_ even! - and a ton of emails to answer. When he finally takes a breather, it's well after quitting time.

_Shit_.

He packs up in a frenzied whirlwind, tipping over the long-cold dregs of his coffee in his mad rush to get home.

_Got sidetracked bb sorry, on my way,_ he texts as he leaves.

Nothing.

~

Thor's key is loud in the deadbolt. He gives it a second before turning the knob and pushing the door open. "Loki? Baby?"

All the lights are off; it's not dark yet, sure, but something feels _wrong_. Thor shivers, hair standing up on the back of his neck. "Loki," he calls again, starting towards the bedroom.

"If you so much as laugh," Loki rasps from the bathroom, "I swear on all that is holy; I _will_ fucking kill you."

~

The bathroom looks like a bomb went off in it, a bomb full of toothpaste and shaving cream and broken bits of plastic and glass. He’s not at all tempted to laugh. It's not funny; it's horrifying.

Loki is peering at Thor over the toilet seat, eyes puffy red, stringy hair plastered everywhere - face, neck, and shoulders, the wall, the toilet.

There's not much blood, as far as Thor can see; just a long dried trail of it from one nostril to pointed chin.

He takes one careful step closer, avoiding the worst of the sharp debris. "What- what happened?" He can't even begin to come up with a reasonable explanation.

"Just get it over with... _I told you so, Loki_ ," his brother taunts, voice hoarse. "You know you want to."

Actually, he _doesn't_ want to. Thor shakes his head wordlessly.

Loki sighs, letting his head clunk against the tile. "I lost my balance somehow," he explains. "I was a little dizzy. And just like one of Siffy's _old people_ , I pinned my good arm underneath me." He snuffles. "I pretty much can't fucking move. Or, at least, I can’t get loose. I moved quite a bit early on," he says drily.

"And all this?" Thor gestures to the mess between them.

Loki snorts. "There was a lot within kicking distance."

Thor nods. He's- he’s by equal parts too freaked and too relieved to be angry. Plus, you can’t make this shit up; it does have all the hallmarks of an honest accident. "So, when did all this happen," he asks, as conversationally as he can, squatting to pick up glass shards and drop them in the wastebasket.

“Well,” Loki stops to cough; it hurts, just watching him. "that would be about the time your car left the driveway."

“This morning,” Thor squawks, incredulous. “You’ve been stuck here since this morning?!”

“Bingo. Just me, the wall, and my bff the toilet. Not much of a party.”

_Holy shit._ “So you haven’t-,” he starts, only to have his brother cut him off.

“Eaten showered washed slept taken my meds shit brushed my teeth had my pain pills? All that daily stuff? Nope.” Loki smiles, all teeth. “Haven’t had any water, either. Basically, I screamed like a banshee. And flailed. When all that got old, I sulked.” He looks down. “Oh, and I’m afraid I did pee. Sorry about that. _Bad dog_. So, how was _your_ day,” he mock-chirps, voice raw.

Thor is- he needs to help out, needs it like breathing, but he’s not even sure where to start. “Um. What can I do? What do you want first,” he clarifies. “Water?”

Loki nods. “And my pills. All of them,” he adds, with enthusiasm. _Shit shit shit._ Something must show in Thor’s face, because his brother hastily adds “Not that kind of _all of them,_ idiot. The right number of each.” He sighs loudly. “Just bring the containers in and- and you can get them out and feed them to me. God, I’m such an ass.”

“Baby, no,” Thor assures him. “You lost your balance. That could happen to anyone.”

“Because being stubborn just isn’t a factor here,” Loki finishes.

Thor smiles. “Well, I’m not really in any position to criticize you there.”

~

He gets Loki pills and water, as requested. And then, over his brother’s protests, he calls Sif. “No, no, stay where you are,” he tells her. “We just need a little advice.”

~

She tells him what to check for, and what to do. Afterwards Thor gets the dustpan and hand broom and cleans up as much of the sharp crap as he can, and between them – his brother’s not _stuck_ , exactly; he just can’t get any leverage, and he managed to thoroughly exhaust himself quite some time ago – they get Loki back up and sitting properly on the toilet.

Thor calls Sif back. “It doesn’t look like he fell hard. No, no bruising. Oh, wait,” he says as Loki fusses, “he wants to talk to you.” He holds the phone against Loki’s ear as his brother rolls first one shoulder and then the other.

“No. No. I don’t think so. I will.” Thor can hear the sound of Sif’s voice, but not her questions. Still, Loki isn’t acting like he most often does when he’s lying; he just seems tired. Drained. Understandably, at that. “Thanks, Sif. All yours,” Loki tells Thor, gesturing with his chin.

~

In the end they don’t go back to the ED. Thor cleans his brother up, gently, with a warm washcloth. He helps Loki wrap himself in a couple of soft blankets and then half steers, half carries his brother out to the couch. While they’re waiting for the pizza guy – Loki wants junk for dinner, and Thor just hasn’t got it in him to deny any favors just now – Thor cleans up the rest of the mess in the bathroom.

There’s no real harm done, it seems, and that’s something for which he is incredibly grateful.

~

The pizza is good. Loki is tired and cuddly. They watch a dumb movie while Thor very, very gently rubs his brother’s countless sore muscles.

It’s a better evening than it has any right to be.

~

As they’re finally stumbling off to bed, Loki catches Thor’s forearm in his good hand. “I- I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m going to be up to day treatment tomorrow.” He winces. “Right now I can barely fucking move.”

“That’s okay,” Thor assures him. “I’ll give your case manager a call and explain. You can rest up tomorrow and go back the next day.” Rome didn’t _fall_ in a day, either.

Loki tugs his arm, forcing Thor to face him. “Will you stay home with me? Please?”

He wants so badly to gather Loki in his arms, to wrap his brother in a huge bear hug and smother him with kisses, but none of that is smart or practical right now. Instead Thor takes careful hold of the ends of Loki’s fingers, where they peek out from the cast’s edge. “I’d be happy to,” he says quickly, and he couldn’t mean it more. “We’ll find a way to make it fun.”

His brother laughs. “You know, I think I’d even settle for finding a way to keep it out of the bathroom.”


End file.
